


Giving Head

by dethdonut



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Food Kink, M/M, Stridercest - Freeform, Stuffing, chub kink, fat dave, headless!Dirk
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-21
Updated: 2015-06-21
Packaged: 2018-04-05 09:55:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,780
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4175475
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dethdonut/pseuds/dethdonut
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dirk stuffs Dave full of donuts and milk; things get better (and fucked up) when Dirk gives some literal head.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Giving Head

**Author's Note:**

> An oldie but goodie that I finally got to posting here, and my Tumblr followers will surely remember. Also note Dirk is supposed to be 19 while Dave is 18. Happy reading!

It’s eleven at night when you make it through the door, your back damp with sweat and feet throbbing. Working a late shift at the pizza place near your campus after class has left you exhausted and you stumble into the apartment, dropping your backpack not too far from where you entered. You can see the flickers of light from the television in the living room but the sound is muted; you figure your brother slash roommate slash pseudo boyfriend is listening to something on his iPod as he watches horse documentaries again. Same old, same old.

You kick off your sneakers and amble through the threshold of the hallway and find Dirk exactly where you imagined; tablet and pen in hand, laptop balanced on his hips, and one ear bud wrapped up his neck around the same pattern as his stitches. He nods his head at you and closes his laptop without turning it off, placing it along with his drawing implements on the coffee table. 

He wraps up his ear buds with his iPod as he says, “You look tired.”

“Hmm,” you answer. You’re drained and hungry, and even though it was incredibly tempting to bring home a pizza from where you work, you’re sick of the stuff. There’s only so many meals of cheap pizza a week you can take. You just want to crash. “Is the whole couch taken or you gonna let me sit.”

“Ocupado,” Dirk says, stretching out.

Smug little asshole, you think, and head to the piece of furniture anyways, “Yeah, okay,” you say, going through the motion to sit where Dirk is; you’re sure he’ll move out the way.

Instead, he grabs your large love handles and pulls you down on top of him so you’re sitting in his lap (or covering, let’s be honest). You huff, not really fighting it, and Dirk’s arms wrap around your waist to reach your ponderous belly. His fingers barely graze past the sides, there’s no way he could wrap his arms around it completely. He groans into your back. 

“Sometimes I wonder if there’s just too much of you,” he sighs, his fingers still searching along your plush fat, “…nah.”

You shiver. “You fucking love it,” you mumble, failing in the delivery of your snarky remark.

Dirk’s hands hover down under your stomach, his fingers sinking into the soft fat that’s hanging over the waist of your jeans. It’s just for a moment though, and his hands glide back up the dome of your middle, pushing your shirt up as he goes. He murmurs something into your shoulder, you can’t make out the words, but you know it’s some sort of curse word. He finally rest his digits on your breasts, cupping them as he thumbs one of your nipples.

You can feel his crotch digging into your plush ass and it only makes your own pants grow tighter. You let a moan slip. “I-I wa-,” you start to say, but your voice wavers and gives out when Dirk nips at the side of your fat neck.

“You want what?” Dirk presses his nose into your cheek as his hands dip down again, playing with your exposed belly. There’s a slight chill in the air, but his warm fingers feel like butter slipping along the rolls of fat bunching down your sides and back. “Maybe a kiss?”

“Mm,” you hum in agreement, but you’re too lethargic to move, knowing that Dirk is pinned under your body and can’t maneuver into your lap.

“Just a moment,” Dirk says in your ear, seemingly reading your mind, and withdraws his hands. He shuffles behind you and you wonder if he’s actually trying to escape his prison. “Much better.”

“Wha- augh, no!” you duck your face away when Dirk hands his head over your shoulder. You hate it when does it, especially when he has that confident smirk on his lips.

“I might as well take advantage of it,” he replies, his shades slipping down his nose and you grimace at him. “Aw, don’t be like that.”

You’re about to snap back that this is a total boner-kill, but Dirk’s hands grab at your belly and you groan. “So fucked up,” you mutter, but you silence yourself when Dirk’s lips press yours.

Dirk’s body shifts under yours, his dick grinding into you as he sloppily kisses you and you lean back mindlessly. Your belly wobbles from the motion, but Dirk takes it into his own hands and molds it, pushing and pulling and jiggling it; feeling the weight bounce and roll makes you moan into Dirk’s mouth. He smiles into the kiss. “You feeling up for something better?”

You blink, a little out of it, but humor him. “Like what?”

“If you get up I’ll show you,” he arches an eyebrow at you.

“Fff, okay,” you give back his head, but his hands simply places it beside you on the couch cushion. You sigh but get up; it takes a moment, and honestly you’re finding standing up is starting to become a chore more than it used to be. Once standing, Dirk’s body stumbles to his feet and you roll your eyes behind your shades. “Really?”

“Well, I’m not going to go through the trouble of taking it off and putting it back again if I don’t intend on leaving it on.”

“Gross,” you shoot back, still huffy and a little heated from the lingering sensation of Dirk’s fingers groping your body. You miss it already.

Dirk, body and head and all, ambles into the kitchen and you’re reminded of how starved you are. You nestle back onto the couch while you wait for Dirk to return, trying to pull your mind away thinking about how empty your stomach feels. Instead you find yourself probing at a few extra inches on your waistline you hadn’t noticed before. It’s not a rare occurrence though, especially with the frequent evenings of overindulgence, but you don’t mind; you receive enough positive attention from Dirk to combat any insecurities.

When Dirk returns you feel stupid for not realizing quicker what he had in store for you. Clearly your brother went grocery shopping, that or dished out a considerable amount of money at Dunkin Donuts. Two boxes, which you assume only to be a dozen each, and a full gallon of milk are set down on the table in front of you. 

“All for me?” you ask, but you already know the answer.

“Wouldn’t have it any other way,” Dirk says, slipping down to sit between your side and the armrest of the couch, wedging his body against yours. His head is back on his shoulders for the time being and you’re glad; you wouldn’t want your appetite to be ruined.

You immediately tear into the first box and grab two donuts, one in each hand. It’s no secret you’re starved and you take a large bite out of each at the same time, reclining back into the couch when your taste buds are relieved with the overwhelming burst of sugar and sweet artificially flavored jelly. The few first donuts are consumed in a hungered frenzy, but you pause to lick your lips and Dirk leans forward to grab a donut himself. You open your mouth on instinct, and the spongy treat is shoved between your lips; you hum and consume this one more slowly, appreciating the rich, orange cream filling.

You’d be lying if you said you didn’t enjoy this- savoring the way Dirk curls around your wide body, or the empty pain of hunger in your stomach, soon to be quelled and filled. You shift in your seat, a tightness pulling in the crotch of your jeans, and the couch groans as you do so. Your brother quirks his lips in response, but says nothing. Instead, he lets you clean off his cream covered fingers with your tongue; a shiver vibrates through him to you. He reaches for another donut.

“Mm,” you make a noise, just as Dirk removes his hand from your mouth. You begin to lean forward, your goal being the jug of milk on the coffee table, your stomach rolling out in front of you in the process, but Dirk stops you.

“You just had to ask, you know,” he says, glancing at you before sliding it closer to the edge and then picking it up, twisting the cap off in one fluid movement.

You hum in response and sit back. Dirk’s willingness to dote on you is off putting, and hard to get used to, but you don’t complain when he returns to your side and nudges the lip of the gallon jug to your mouth. He gingerly lifts it for you to drink from and after a couple of big gulps, Dirk pulls away and replaces it with a donut pressed to your lips before you can catch a breath. You open your mouth up, anyways.

Another few donuts inhaled and the first dozen are gone. You feel satisfied, your belly heavy and warm, but Dirk opens the second box. You make a noise, something of the effect of ‘I’m good’, but you change your mind when your brother takes out a Boston Cream donut; your hands creep along your stomach, rubbing the slightly taut skin in preparation. A couple more donuts wouldn’t hurt, and besides, it’s not like you’re watching your figure.

Dirk’s slender fingers slip under your chin, tilting your head upwards just slightly as you part your lips; the pastry is doughy but soft, and when you bite in your tongue is greeted with sweet, thick cream. You shudder. It oozes, dripping down your cheek and onto your brother’s hands. Your eyelids close in pleasure as Dirk stuffs the rest of the treat into your mouth and promptly swipes the pastry cream in with the rest. It takes a moment to chew and swallow, but you get to licking the blonde’s fingertips clean as well as the corners of your lips. You wait for another donut to be pushed in, but after a second you blink your eyes open in confusion, and find Dirk uncapping the gallon of milk again. The jug is halfway empty and you realize he’s planning on giving you the rest; your full belly churns at the thought but you don’t protest much when Dirk tilts the lip for you to drink from again.

You gulp, thankful for the palate cleaner for the last heavy donut, but you can feel your stomach expanding and growing heavier- you’re overwhelmed as Dirk tips it further and you sputter milk on yourself and him. Dirk sits back, removing the gallon from your lips and you groan.

“Nice going,” you choke out, wiping your mouth with your arm and pat down the front of your spattered shirt. 

Dirk quietly sets the milk back down on the coffee table and watches for a moment before crawling back to your side. “Can I make it up to you?” he asks, his hands crawling down to your bloated middle.

You’re tempted to swat them away, but your stomach hurts from the influx of food you’ve inhaled in the past half an hour and you know your brother’s nimble fingers can soothe your grumbling belly. You nod.

Dirk pushes up your shirt further, revealing the creamy, freckly expanse of your large middle and begins to rub and prod. He’s become all too experienced in the matter, and in no time your pain is slowly disappearing; he takes added liberty by slipping his fingers deep under your belly and before you know it your pant’s button is popped and your fly zipped down. Your stomach rolls forward in thanks, now free, and a groan of relief builds in the back of your throat. Dirk smiles at you.

His lips are suddenly on your fat, rolled neck and your groan escapes as his tongue makes its way up to your ear and back down to the soft skin under your chin. The spilled milk is forgotten for the moment as Dirk presses closer, one hand still rubbing circles over your hanging tummy, and the other dangerously close to slipping into your boxers and playing with your junk. You shift, the tightness in your pants not just from your thick thighs, and the teen moves with you, his mouth closing on your neck and nibbling lightly. You embarrassingly whimper and you feel Dirk smile into his kiss. “Hold on a sec,” he says, a little breathless.

You watch him move, taking his hands back, and you realize he’s taking his head off again. You groan, about to complain, but stops you by quickly stealing a donut from the box and shoving it in your mouth. Your eyebrows furrow, mumbling insults between the baked good, when Dirk takes his stupid head in between your fat thighs. You shut up immediately.

One hand still holding his head, Dirk rolls the hem of your boxers down and takes your dick into his mouth- you choke on chewing the donut and painfully swallow most of it whole. “Dirk, shit-”

You try to look over your huge, round belly to see for yourself, but Dirk’s hands hold you back and you find yourself grabbing his hair to keep his head steady. Dirk’s body is still close, his angular, bony hips pressing into your plush side and you give into settling back down in the couch. You can’t imagine Dirk has much air down there, but you feel dumb realizing if the guy can take off his head he’s not going to suffocate. The thought is quickly forgotten as the blonde works his tongue over the head of your cock and you shiver. Dirk's hands begin working on your stomach again and you’re pretty damn sure the combination of tummy rub, a bloated belly, and blow job are going to put your into cardiac arrest.

Spreading you legs further apart, without your thighs separating all that much, you shift Dirk’s head and shudder as he continue to suck. In response, Dirk’s hips rock against you and move slightly so he can slip behind you, his long, twig legs practically wrapping around your rolled, plump sides. You sit back again, his hard on grinding against your plush ass and you breathe heavy, overstimulated. You’re not a stranger to Dirk multitasking (the teen has watched television while feeding you numerous times before, minus his head resting on his shoulders), but you think this is almost a little much. With Dirk’s tongue working on your boner though you quickly change your mind.

Dirk is moving behind you, his hips slowly, yet almost frantically, pushing and rubbing but with your heavy bulk on top the movement is slowed. His hands, still grabbing at your belly, suddenly leave and you he stretches towards the coffee table. You can only groan, watching him pluck a donut out of the half empty box, and when he hovers it in front of your mouth you refuse. A dozen donuts and most of a gallon of milk is more than enough, even for your large and growing appetite- you can’t even think about eating one more. You’re breathing heavily though, your lips parted with every huffing whimper that escapes your throat, and Dirk takes the opportunity to bring the baked good closer until you give in and take a bite. It’s chocolate glazed, one of your favorites, and you audibly moan as you chew. Dirk’s tongue continues to glide and move, and its becoming too much; your chest is heaving and you feel like you’re burning. You’re given another bite, chocolate and sugar melting in your mouth and with Dirk’s nimble fingers back on your stuffed, round middle you come, your own pudgy fingers twisting in your brother’s hair. He sputters and you slump back, exhausted.

After a few deep, heavy pants you remember Dirk’s head is still between your fat thighs and you remove it, feeling guilty. There’s spunk spattered across his mouth and nose and without missing a beat he asks, “give me a hand?”

You blink but nod, your movements labored from the heavy, full feeling in your stomach but you pass him off back to his body and he sighs, adjusting his head back into place. “Didn’t I tell you it’d be better?”

“Mm,” you hum in in agreement and move so Dirk can get off the couch to clean himself up.

He glances at the half empty box of donuts on the coffee table before moving to the bathroom, but throws over his shoulder, “we’ll have to see if you can finish two dozen next time.”  
You don’t argue the notion.


End file.
